


Quietly in the Dark

by odietamo53



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Het, M/M, Multi, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-10
Updated: 2013-11-10
Packaged: 2018-01-01 00:26:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1038169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/odietamo53/pseuds/odietamo53
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes it takes finding something great to make someone you love, love you back. Harry doesn't want to pine after Louis anymore, so he finds someone he could maybe love. But now Louis wants him. And she doesn't seem all that opposed to the idea either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It had been a slow night, all things considered. Even the club seemed a little subdued and he shot Zayn a tortured look. “You said we would have fun.”

The black haired boy shook his head and lifted his beer. “I said we’d drink. Fun was just supposed to come with it.”

Harry dropped his head into his arms. Truth was, he’d had maybe half a beer and didn’t feel up to finishing it, he briefly considered going home to Louis and their ridiculously comfortable couch. But he wasn’t even in London right now, he’d travelled with Zayn and Niall to Ireland, the blonde wanted to tour a bit of the country, get some ‘culture’ and management had given them the go ahead to take a few days. 

“Shots!” The Irish boy slammed down the tray a little too hard and one of the tiny glasses tipped over. “Oops,” he giggled, shrugging, “guess Zayn only gets two.” 

“Ass,” the darker boy muttered as he grabbed at one.

Harry stared almost mournfully at the glasses. The liquid in them was clear, vodka maybe? He took a sniff, definitely rum. This felt even less appetizing than the beer. But his bandmates were staring expectantly and he figured he’d go along with it, maybe he wouldn’t regret it later. Big maybe. 

It burned on the way down, that pleasant, subdued burn of rum that simmered for a moment in the stomach before ebbing away slowly. He barely noticed he’d begun chasing it with the beer he had planned on abandoning. The second shot went down just as smooth and he settled back into the booth, awaiting the low buzz that would be coming soon enough. 

“Now, dancing!” Niall hadn’t even taken the time to sit down, slinging back three shots and moving backwards from the tables. Harry shook his head vehemently; he at least needed his buzz to hit before he got on the floor with the drunken Irishman. Zayn, however, was indulging their friend and Harry was left alone to stare at the final shot sitting before him. 

“It’s just you and me now, don’t be offended when I have to drink you, it’s your job after all.” Shot number three hurt a bit, fire erupted in his chest for a painful moment. 

“Harry, Harry, Harry!” Niall bounded back to the table, grabbing at his hand. “Come here, come see.” He was feeling boneless, the shots settled into his system with a quickness and he was sort of shocked into being tipsy. So he was easy to pull from his seat and weave through the crowd. “Look at Zayn!” 

Harry began to think maybe Zayn had more to drink than he remembered. The older boy was relatively subdued and shy when it came to being the focus of attention off stage. Therefore, it came as a bit of a surprise that he was currently in the middle of the dance floor, hands on the shoulders of a petite redhead whose presence riveted all in the building. 

“She pulled him out there,” Niall yelled in his ear, “the crowd had already split for her and she got Zayn to join her, fucking hilarious!” 

Something about the way she commanded attention made him jealous, of Zayn. He couldn’t see her face, probably wouldn’t have looked at it even if she was facing him, to be quite honest. He just wanted to touch her body, that perfect, pert ass. 

It had to be the alcohol that drove him forward, a few people shouting protests as he blocked their view, and Zayn took notice, shooting him a smile and stepping back. He always did know how to share. 

Based on the way her movements slowed momentarily, he figured she could tell her dance partner had changed when he slid his hands around her waist, long fingers wrapping over her hips. That damn skirt would be the death of him, not insanely short but made of some flimsy material that flared out with the smallest twitch, black and barely clinging to the skin just below his fingers. God he needed more, he was feeling greedy and she was rolling her body back against him like some kind of slinky, boneless cat. So he slid his hands higher, catching the bottom of her shirt with his pinkies as his fingers splayed over her ribs. He was too sober to be putting himself on display like this, too in his right mind to justify feeling a girl up under a hundred prying eyes.

The redhead goddess, the name he’d settled on in his thoughts, grabbed his wrists and pulled them down, tugging her tank top along, before moving behind him. Harry couldn’t dance, what he did was playing around at best, but he could be used as a prop, she could use him until the sun came up and his lanky body wasted away from lack of sleep, water, food, or blood to anywhere but his groin. 

And use him she did. He could feel the curve of her ass on the backs of his thighs moving lower, lower, as her hands pressed against his back. 

It was intoxicating. The club hot and humid, bodies pressed close around them, mingled voices barely breaking through the thick haze in his brain. She was circling him again and all he caught were bright amber eyes, long lashes flickering, red-brown hair falling over her face, full breasts suddenly pushed tight to his chest. And he was holding on. Both hands splayed over the small of her back, god she was so fucking tiny, he pulled her even closer. It would be so easy to lift her up against him, for her legs to wrap around his waist so he could reach her hot center and bite at lush lips. So easy, if there had been a wall close by he’d have backed her against it by now.

He didn’t even notice the song had ended and everyone else had gone back to dancing, closing in around them. Because they were standing still, her chest heaving, the arms wound around his neck clammy with sweat. Suddenly he was worried he was forcing her against him and he loosened his hold slightly, it was the hardest thing he’d done in a long time. He was hard and she was a drug that had invaded his system so quickly it scared him. 

When she fell back from him he went to catch her, only grasping at one small hand briefly before she slipped away into the crowd. He was tall; he should be able to spot her. But she was short and he was tipsy and buzzed on more than just alcohol. 

He spent the next half hour at the table scanning the crowd in vain. Niall and Zayn had poked fun at him but he couldn’t risk looking away for one second. By the time they dragged him out the door to the waiting car he was hanging his head in defeat. The night had been fun for one song, after that he was just frustrated. 

\--

“Missed me then?” 

“You have no idea,” Harry muttered into his flatmate’s shoulder, squeezing him in a ridiculously tight hug. “Niall got so drunk he was hungover for the last two days and no one would pour my cereal for me.”

Louis stroked his curls affectionately and laughed. “That’s what you get for leaving the wife at home. All I did was pine your absence and clean.”

“I’ll make it up to you Lou.” He released his friend and took a running leap onto the couch. “Movie night! I’ll make dinner.”

Louis grabbed at his chest dramatically. “A man after my own heart.” Harry only smiled and extended his arms for the older boy to climb in. 

There was already a movie on the television, never mind it was half over, and Harry left it there, content to lounge tangled with his friend while his luggage sat by the front door where he’d dropped it. The last few days he’d thought of nothing but the mysterious girl and it was beginning to bother him. He just needed a relaxing night with Louis to calm his apparently frazzled nerves and get back to normal. Most people wouldn’t call this normal, but he and Lou’s relationship was special, they were comfortable with themselves and each other, so they’d do whatever they damn well wanted. 

The night passed quietly, Harry cooked pasta and they made it through three movies before passing out, dirty plates abandoned on the coffee table. 

When Harry woke up it was dark, a lone lamp casting light over the couch as the television blared overplayed commercials. His back ached and he stood, stretching his long body and smiling down at his friend who was already taking over the newly free couch space. 

“G’night Lou,” he murmured, bending down to ruffle his light brown hair. The older boy snuffled and Harry’s heart clenched painfully. When they were awake, messing around and playing off one another, he could pretend easily, act like some weird feeling that he couldn’t identify wasn’t tumbling wildly through his belly and any at moment he might explode because he obviously wasn’t doing whatever his body so desperately wanted him to. It wouldn’t take much brain power to figure out these mysterious body quirks whenever Louis was around, a fucking child could figure it out. But he was scared. Too scared to let himself think much of anything about the situation. So he smiled and carried on. Acted the great friend who didn’t look and stare a little too fondly, didn’t jerk off in the shower after an innocent touch, didn’t chance bringing everything they’d built together crashing down around their ears because of some selfish little feelings.

And when Louis and Eleanor broke up it was miserable, they loved each other dearly but it was one of those relationships where love wouldn’t save it, they were simply never going to work out and Harry cried himself to sleep that night not because he had to hold Louis through Louis’ own tears and see him hurt, but because Harry had lost the biggest excuse he had for ignoring everything he could possibly feel. Now he couldn’t say Louis wasn’t with him because he was faithful to his girlfriend and wanted to be with her, now he had to live with Louis not being with him because Louis didn’t _want_ to be with him. Because he was single and available and nothing in the world could stand between them except feelings that weren’t reciprocated. So Harry cried and ached and curled up until his knees pressed painfully against his chin and he couldn’t breathe. 

He let out a harsh breath and shook his head hard, like he could shake the feelings welling up back down inside of him. On some level it worked and he tore himself away from the couch, retreating to the safety of his bedroom. Where no warm bodies lay in wait to tempt him. Where he could wish away every horrible fucking feeling in the world and no one would be there to judge him. 

\--

The morning had started off shitty. He’d slept through his alarm and Louis had simply opened his door and chucked a shoe in. After that he crawled out of bed and tripped, falling face first into the floor. The water went cold in the shower and they were out of milk for cereal. As he stood cursing at the empty refrigerator, Louis walked in and smiled sleepily up at him, shirtless and hair messed up to just this side of adorable. It was like a punch to the gut. Suddenly Harry wasn’t hungry anymore, just tired and more than a little irritated with himself. 

Calling out their need for milk, he threw on some sunglasses and stepped out. The warm spring air was already working wonders on his mood, causing a small smile to crack his lips as he headed for the coffee shop down the block, maybe waking up more would get his brain functioning to an acceptable range. 

It was early enough that the morning crowd was just filing out but lunch crowd hadn’t begun and he could hang around a little bit without being harassed. Grinning at the barista, he ordered a small coffee and glanced at the stack of newspapers as he waited. 

“Small coffee!”

Perking up, he ambled over to the counter, jumping when the girl in front of him turned quickly, ramming right into his chest. Searing heat spread down his torso and his eyes widened comically. 

“Oh shit! That’s hot, that’s scalding hot coffee I’m so sorry.” The girl sounded a little panicked, beginning to shove napkins at him while taking a towel from the barista and pressing it against his shirtfront. “Are you okay? I can’t believe I just did that. Fuck. Sorry. For cursing. For spilling coffee on you. I’ll pay for the shirt. I’m sorry.” 

Spread across his body, the coffee cooled quickly and the heat was bearable. He was, however, focused on the words practically pouring from the apologetic girl’s lips. They looked like soft lips, big and lush. 

“Fuck, your jeans, I just ruined your whole outfit. I can’t afford to pay for all of it, but I’ll pay for something.”

The way her tongue flicked out to wet them was making his skin crawl. She was cute and he started to smile. Maybe this is what he needed for distraction. “Hi,” he murmured. 

She stopped talking abruptly and looked at him strangely. “I didn’t get that coffee on your brain did I? You okay?” 

“Uh,” he looked down at his coffee soaked tee shirt and shrugged, “yeah.”

She continued looking at him strangely, but jotted something down on a napkin and handed it to him. “Look, here’s my number, I said I’d pay for the shirt but I don’t have any cash on me, hit me up later this week, promise I won’t skip out on you, you have my permission to hunt me down if I do.”

The barista had reappeared with a mop and a new coffee for the girl. Harry watched as the redhead took her coffee and tucked herself back into his favorite corner chair. Something about her was enticing; he liked the way her cheeks flushed in the excitement, bits of hair falling forward into her face. She seemed familiar. Looking now though, he could see her amber eyes were red rimmed, her hands fidgety. If he thought he was having a bad day, hers was probably worse. 

Taking his coffee, he walked over and sat across from her. “I didn’t get your name.” 

She looked up from the book she’d picked up and her brows lowered a bit. “I’m Kara.” A moment of silence hung between them and she leant forward a bit and whispered. “This is usually the point when you tell me your name.” 

“Harry,” he replied quickly, shifting awkwardly in his seat. Something about her nagged at his barely working brain.

With a small smile she sat back. “You’re a little strange, aren’t you Harry?” 

“Yeah,” he replied, a little quicker than intended and was pleased when she giggled. “Sorry, I’m just not used to starting casual street conversation.”

Kara seemed a little taken aback. “Uh huh, so, I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean.”

“I’m in a band.” Mentally he wanted to slap himself. He sounded stupid, arrogant, and who the hell says that anyway, band or not?

She began to laugh and Harry was fairly certain this was the most difficult conversation he’d ever had with a girl. Calming down quickly, she braced her elbows on her knees and set her chin in palm. “So I guess that means I don’t have to pay for the shirt?”

He was beginning to get the feeling she didn’t believe him. Or she believed him but laughed off the idea of a band like it was some schoolboy thing. 

Wait. Those amber eyes flashed up at him as she glanced through long lashes, a piece of hair falling into her face. “You’re her.”

“’Scuse me?”

“From the club, in Ireland. We danced. I can’t believe this!” No wonder he’d been so entranced. God, she was beautiful even without the tight clothes and dancing. 

Her mouth snapped shut and she sat up a little straighter. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled quickly, “really sorry. I have to go; it was nice to meet you.” Gathering up her purse, she darted out the door before he could find anything intelligent to say. 

Harry jumped up and stepped out onto the sidewalk but caught only her retreating back disappearing around a corner. Some squeals caught his attention and he turned towards them with a resigned smile, shoving the napkin in his pocket first. 

\--

His pacing back and forth was beginning to visibly agitate Louis and he felt nowhere near stopping. 

“What crawled up your ass and died?”

Harry slowed momentarily and scowled at his friend. “I’m not in a bad mood.”

“No,” Louis replied as he sprawled out further on the couch, “but you’re not exactly sunshine and daisies either.”

Good point and Harry didn’t like causing tension. With a groan he folded his long legs and sat heavily. “I want to call her.”

“So call her.” Louis had been done with this conversation about the time it began. He’d taken the time to laugh at Harry’s coffee covered clothes and nodded sympathetically at the girl’s apologies, but the half hour rant about her eyes and lips and way her voice squeaked as she panicked got old quickly. 

“But she was so freaked out when she left. I don’t even know why.”

“So don’t call her.”

“But I want to.”

“Come here.”

“Why?” Harry asked, scooting slowly towards the couch. 

Louis rolled his eyes like the answer was obvious. “Because you need slapped.”

“Fine, I’ll call her!” Harry jumped to his feet and moved backwards but the older boy wasn’t chasing him. 

“It’s a miracle!”

Removing one of the shoes from his feet, Harry tossed it in Louis’ general direction and darted off to the bathroom, he already had the house reeking of coffee. 

\--

The urge to pace was welling up in him again but he managed to quell the sensation. It was bad enough he’d spent ten minutes comparing the number written down to the one he’d put in his phone, like it would magically change to the wrong number when he tried to call her. But he’d gone through every pre-phone call ritual possible- checking the number, getting a glass of water, practicing his greeting, settling himself into a comfortable spot on the bed. The only thing left was hit the call button. 

It seemed to ring endlessly and his hand tightened around the device with each tone. 

“Hello!” The voice was male. 

He hadn’t thought about the possibility she’d given him a fake number. She’d seemed so nice, so sincere. It took all his energy not to drop the phone then and there. 

“Patrick, give that back you ass!” That was her voice! He swore it was. There in the background, she was talking. “I’m so sorry.” Her voice was loud and clear now, she’d obviously reclaimed her phone and sounded slightly out of breath. “Hello?”

Shit. He hadn’t realized how quiet he’d been and quickly cleared his throat. “Hi.”

“Eloquent,” she replied with a small laugh. “Who is this?”

“Harry.” A thump sounded on the other end and he imagined the phone hitting the ground.

A few seconds later she replied with a small, “oh.”

“You ran out so fast I didn’t get the chance to say much of anything. I’m sorry if this is a little off base but I’d like to see you again.”

“Why?”

He paused a moment and shrugged. “Why not?”

“Well,” she replied, sounding almost resigned, “if that’s not a good enough reason, I don’t know what is. Okay.”

A smile broke across his face and he found himself unable to suppress it. “Great, can I pick you up tomorrow around eight?”

“I’ll text you and we can meet somewhere. I like to have an escape plan.”

He hung up grinning like an idiot. To be honest he needed this more than anything else he could think of right now. Maybe a pretty girl is all it will take to get his mind off all these pent up emotions. 

\--

He stood when he saw her walk in the door; no one could say he wasn’t a gentleman. She wore jeans and a tight black tee shirt, large purse slung over her shoulder. Harry waved her over to the small table and pulled the seat out for her. She seemed mildly uncomfortable with the gesture and he sat quickly. 

“So Harry,” her voice was low, teasing, “Why did you ask me here?”

He suppressed a shrug. “You’re a very pretty girl. It’s not in my nature to pass that up.”

“Ahh,” she murmured, shooting him a devastating smile. “Too bad for you I’m not that kind of girl.”

“And what kind of girl is that?”

Kara leant back in her chair and cocked her head. “One that likes boys who want her just cause she’s pretty.”

A waiter appeared at the table, determined to take their drink order. Harry ordered a house lager and looked at Kara questioningly. “Vodka and cranberry?”

She shook her head emphatically, grimacing. “God no, I hate vodka. Whiskey, splash of ginger.” Rearranging self-consciously in her chair, the redhead looked at him expectantly. Harry felt a little chastised at her response to his compliment and he felt a bit out of his element. He couldn’t tell if she was offended at being called pretty or simply throwing the shallowness of it in his face. “So, what do you do for a living?”

Familiar territory, at least she didn’t seem apt to wallow about in awkward situations. “Band, remember.”

“Yes, yes, you’re in a band. Big boy you are. But how do you make your money? Where does the rent come from? And if you tell me you live with your parents I might walk out,” she joked. 

Harry got the distinct feeling she had no earthly idea who he might be and suddenly really didn’t want her to know, she didn’t seem one to fall for fame and money. “What do you do, if it’s so important?”

“Cheeky bastard,” she whispered, raising a brow. “I’m a student, first year in a Ph.D. program at University of Kent. Living off a research student stipend and part time bookstore job.”

“If you’re studying at Kent, what are you doing in London, or Ireland for that matter?” Ph. D. student? He’d assumed she was his age but it was probably safe to tack on two or so years based on that. 

“Nosey.” Their drinks arrived and she took a small sip, his eyes zeroed in on the way her lips puckered around the edge of the glass. “I’ve got a place in Canterbury, it’s not a bad drive to London, I work here, and if I want to crash I have a friend who lives a block from the bookstore. Ireland was just some vacation time, going with a friend to visit her family. I like to be moving about.”

Her amber eyes looked into his fucking soul and she had to be smart as shit and dear lord he was in so over his head. He didn’t go out with girls like this, he had flings with models and singers and it wasn’t because of what they were or what they looked like, it was because they were in the same business as him and looking for the exact same thing. Some steam to blow off. No real time commitment. “Why did you agree to see me?” She’d wanted to know why he asked her out, he might as well ask why she would say yes, what possible reason she could have to waste some of her precious time on him when, in her mind at least, he could be anybody, a nobody. 

She laughed, a pleasant but not quite feminine sound. “Because,” she leaned in over the table, staring up through those eyelashes, a devilish look crossing her face. “I couldn’t stop thinking about your hands on me. Those long fingers. The way they wrapped so easily around my hips, strong enough to bruise.”

“You wanna get out of here?”

\--

He’d wanted to take her home. To stumble in the door of his flat as he mouthed his way down her neck. Push her against the kitchen table and wrap his hands around her strong thighs. To fuck into her so hard the table skid on the hardwood floor. He wanted to watch her face contort as she came, to play with her nipples until she panted his name, had to push him away. Wanted to pass out with her, sweaty and sated, too hot to use sheets as they tangled together on the bed. 

But they’re walking down the well-lit street and he was grateful for the later hour, those about now were less likely to out his identity. The conversation was great and he was relieved, she seemed more comfortable now, wildly open actually. 

“So it was my first date ever, sometime in high school, and I’m out with this guy, seeing a band some of his friends played in. Anyway, I’m nervous and I’ve got this bendy straw from my drink at dinner.” She’s gesturing emphatically with her hands as she speaks and Harry’s just as amused by her stories as the way she tells them. “As he’s introducing me to his friends and we’re hanging out, I’m chewing on this straw, twisting it around my finger, I can’t keep the thing out of my mouth. All the sudden he grabs it from me and tosses it to the ground with this weird look on his face before excusing himself for a minute. Took his friends cracking up for me to realize he’d gotten all hot and bothered by my make out session with the straw.”

Harry laughed and shook his head. “What a tease! He was a teenaged boy, what did you expect?”

“I was a teenaged girl,” she replied, “I was too busy making sure my boobs looked good to think about a straw.”

“Touché.”

They’d reached a low brick wall curving around a bend in whatever waterway flowed beside them. She bounced up onto it easily, kicking her heels gently against the hard surface as she smiled softly at him. “So, you never told me what you do.”

Harry scrubbed at the back of his neck, stepping up in front of her instead of sitting. He toyed with the idea of putting his hands on her jean-clad knees. “Band remember,” he said quietly.

The smile faded from her lips and she stared at him contemplative. “Is that how you define yourself, as a person? Just a guy in a band?”

“You’re smart.”

“What?” She looked slightly confused, taken aback by his wayward comment. 

“You’re smart,” he repeated, finally placing light fingertips on her knees, noting the way she didn’t pull away. “Earlier I said you were pretty, sure that caught my attention, but I called you because I could tell, just from the way you played with words, you’re smart too.”

“Yeah.” She laughed quietly, breathlessly. “If you know I’m smart, then you know I won’t let you keep avoiding a simple question. Are you embarrassed? If you’re a mass murderer you’d better admit it now because you’ll be shocked at how well I defend myself. I’d whoop your ass.”

He laughed awkwardly, breaking the tension slightly. “You’re not from around here. You don’t talk like you’re British.”

“Well caught. I’m an international student. American. That’s why I like to stay in London, it feels more like home, having some urban mixed with my British makes me a little less homesick.” 

And he kisses her. She may not have been done talking but he hadn’t really cared. His lips pressed against hers and she pressed back ever so slightly, making no move to take it deeper but not pushing him away. It took a lot on his part to keep his hands safely on her knees, to not slide up and tease at those inviting thighs. 

When he pulls back, just far enough to force words between them, she stays completely still, warm breath puffing over his chin. “Come with me. I’ll show you.” He’s got one of her hands wrapped tight in his and begins to pull her along. She stumbles after him for a moment before laughing and breaking into a half run to keep up with his long legs. 

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.” 

There’s a music store right by the park and he knows it stays open late, likes to pop in to pick up new CDs, something about buying the physical thing appealing to him. Her cheeks are rosy when he stops in front of the door and looks back at her. 

Inside he finds the O’s quickly, picking up their CD and turning it over in his hands once before handing it to her wordlessly. For a minute she just stares at him. Then down at the CD cover. Then back at him. The CD. Him. CD. Him. CD. He reaches over and gently takes it out of her slack hands, placing it back on the shelf. 

The silence is tense. He shifts from foot to foot, staring hard at the floor. Say something, he wants to plead. Say anything. 

“You’re a crazy little shit.”

Not what he’d expected. 

“You should have been the one asking if I was a crazy mass murderer.” She’s grinning up at him and he can’t help but grin back. “Am I going to be mobbed by crazy fangirls if I’m seen with you, maybe we shouldn’t stand so close.” She began taking steps backwards and he followed shaking his head. 

“Oh no you don’t!”

“I can’t be near you,” she cried in mock horror, throwing her hands in the air. “I don’t want to die at the hands of an obsessed twelve year old!” Her dramatic sobs were attracting the attention of the boy behind the counter and Harry wrapped arms around her waist, dragging her out of the store laughing hysterically. 

When she’d finally calmed down and could look up at him again she shook her head. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“You know who we are?”

“Yeah I fucking know who you are, I have your music on my fucking ipod. It was a number one album for fucks sake.” Yeah, he nodded along; it was a stupid question to ask. She sobered and reached up to tuck an errant curl behind his ear. “I wouldn’t have cared if you were a bag boy at the market.”

“I like-.”

“No.” She held up a hand. “I’m going to kiss you goodnight. And I’m going to go home. And if you want to see me again you can call, if you don’t then here’s your easy out. If you call I’ll answer, if you don’t I won’t come looking for you.” She had to stand on her toes and him stoop over for them to kiss, but he doesn’t care, wrapping arms around her small waist and pulling her close. This time he slid his tongue against her bottom lip, tasting hints of mint, humming pleasantly when she nipped lightly at his lips. Warmth curled deep in his belly and it was hard to let her go, the way her soft body pressed against his was addictive. 

Once released she stepped back quickly, shooting him a smile before strolling down the sidewalk without a word. He needed to go the same direction, but he’d wait, something told him she wouldn’t want an escort. Plus his lips still tingled and he wanted to savor the feeling a moment more. 

It only took a few minutes to walk home and he entered the flat grinning like an idiot. The lights were all out, Louis was already asleep, so he crept carefully to his room switched on his bedside lamp. 

Curled tight in his sheets with his pillow was Louis, who stirred at the sudden invasion of light. 

“Hazza, turn off the light, sleeping.” 

“In my bed.” Harry began slipping out of his clothes. Fuck, he couldn’t do this, not tonight, not after he had great, if somewhat intense, date with a girl he would definitely be calling. Not when she had taken his mind off of Louis just like he’d wanted. Not when he didn’t know how under control his emotions would be if he climbed in right now.

Louis looked up at him, eyes wide, eyebrows drawn together in worry. “I had a nightmare.”

Fuck, he couldn’t do this. But he would. He had to. Because he was there for Lou, would always be there for him. 

So he climbed in the bed and wrapped arms around the older boy, ignoring the feelings clogging up his throat as Louis melted back into him with a sigh.


	2. Chapter 2

It had been raining for the past twenty four hours at least and he was having a hard time tearing himself away from the window. Time seemed to drag by at some unearthly rate and he was shocked into realizing the sun had only just started going down. Louis was drifting about the flat not doing much of anything but being wildly more productive than Harry was in his unmoving state. Harry was caught between wanting to rip his hair out from boredom and falling asleep, like maybe he could wake up and it would be tomorrow and suddenly his world would be right. 

The doorbell rang and he snapped out of his trance. Neither of them expected anyone and the hour was a little odd for surprise visits. Nevertheless, he stood from his seat and answered the ring. Kara stood on the other side, dripping wet, smile plastered to her face. 

“What are you doing?” He shook his head, staring incredulously. “You’re soaked, come inside, get dry.”

“No,” she grabbed at his hand, tugging, “come with me.”

The words pull at him and it’s hard not to bend to her every wish. They’d spent almost every day of the past two weeks together and he was transfixed. She was easygoing, didn’t ask for more than he wanted to give and gave only enough to keep him wanting more. Being with her could be maddening though. She’d only granted him a few kisses and he wasn’t used to taking things slow, especially this slow. She was lively and some days ran circles around him, but other times she was relaxed, almost lethargic, draped across the couch from sunup to sundown. 

“Where to?”

“Just come on!” She was shifting from foot to foot, practically bouncing with energy. “Harry!”

God, she was dripping all over the hallway. “Fine, let me grab my shoes.”

“Don’t need’em.” She twirled once, hair fanning out around her, spraying him with water. Looking down, he noticed she didn’t have on any shoes, just a pair of shorts and a flimsy yellow top. She wasn’t wearing a bra either, the dark circles of her nipples just showing through the wet shirt. “Come on you silly boy.” 

Kara took off down the hallway, not waiting to see if he followed. Of course he did, he couldn’t fucking say no to her. After pulling the door shut, he ran, his long legs catching up to her fast, but unprepared for the onslaught of rain as they darted out of the building. He came to a full stop, curls already becoming plastered to his head as she ran through the grass, cutting a path in the rain. 

Beautiful, he thought, just, god. Follow her, chase after this girl. The rain was cold, feet splashing through the watery grass, he picked his way towards her. 

“It’s lovely isn’t it, my favorite weather!” Kara shouts and he catches her around the waist. He’s got her lifted so high in the air she throws her arms out and it’s like she’s flying, even the rain can’t keep her down. Drops cling to the ends of her long lashes and she closes her eyes, lets her head fall back; he can’t help but slide her down until he can just reach her lips. It’s a slick kiss, rain preventing any real friction but she’s so warm he groans. 

And then she’s slipping away, fuck, something about the way she slides so easily out of his arms feels like foreshadowing, dancing back and laughing. She’s running again and people with umbrellas stop to watch as she jumps in the fountain, apparently determined to make sure there’s not a dry spot on her body. 

It’s a freedom he can’t take his eyes off of, the expression of pure joy. It’s heartbreaking to think someone so happy could have problems in their life, but he knows she does, the little hints that slip out during conversation are enough to tell him some of this carefree, easygoing girl is a façade. That scares him, because he’s got demons. He’s got feelings that he’s fighting so hard with and she seems to make so many of them go away. Some days, he doesn’t think he would be strong enough to help her if she needed him, to pull her out of whatever trouble weighs her heart down. So he lets her live. He’ll play in the rain with her and take whatever small kisses she offers him because he’s scared to push it. Scared she’ll run and he’ll be left alone, even more scared she’ll bare her soul and he won’t know what to do. He’ll try to pick up the pieces and put them back together but he’s always been shit at puzzles. He doesn’t think he can help her, but he wants her there to help him, he wants to be selfish and let her distract him from his unconventional feelings. Most days he feels like a dick for it.

But she’s running towards him now and he’s ready for it, catches her as she jumps. This time though she’s looking down at him and he can see the tears, how they well up slowly in her amber eyes and spill down to mingle with the rain. He kisses her cheek and tastes the hint of salt. “What’s wrong?” he whispers and he’s scaring himself just asking. 

She’s pressing her forehead to his, hands on his cheeks. “I can’t be this happy.” 

It breaks his heart and he’s grasping at the legs wrapped around his waist. “Please,” he barely speaks, his voice a low murmur in the pouring rain. But she hears it, sees it, and she nods, she nods and kisses him so hard their teeth click but it’s a yes if he’s ever heard one and carries them back to the flat. 

He’s thankful Louis isn’t out in the main area as they burst in because they’re trailing water everywhere and he would scold them before they ever made it to the bedroom. But they did make it. Harry’s got her pressed so hard to the wall he can’t imagine she’s able to breathe well. If she can’t she obviously doesn’t care, small hands pulling desperately at the hem of his tee shirt. 

God, he needs her naked, needs to feel her skin, searing even through the rain wet clothes. And she’s pressed against him so he rocks into her, hips rolling even though the denim is rough and uncomfortable on his cock. 

Kara’s lips are everywhere, sliding across his jaw, down his chin, sucking at the sensitive skin just below his ear. It’s way too much and not nearly enough, he can’t stop, hands fisted hard in her tangled hair, yanking so he can force her head up, so he can bite at her lips. A small, breathy moan works its way out of her throat and he can’t hold back, turning to throw her onto the unmade bed. 

It takes him no time to step out of his own clothes and even less time to pull the shirt over her head and shorts down her white legs. Her skin is clammy and hot, chilled from the rain but heating quickly from within. 

They can’t speak or they’ll break whatever fills the air, whatever heavy feeling sits on their chests and spurs them on so there’s no room for second thoughts, no possibility of hesitation. 

And her moans are low when he shifts down between her thighs, dipping his head to lick at her wet heat, working his tongue quickly against the slick flesh. He moves faster as her hands wind through his hair, clenching but not pulling, and flicks his tongue against her clit, pressing two fingers deep inside of her and quirking them slightly. Her back arches high off the bed while she sucks in harsh breaths, head rolling against the pillows.

He might need this more than she does but at the moment it was hard to tell. Her legs are splayed so far apart he knows he’s going to have to exploit that flexibility later. But for now she’s pressing down against his mouth and he has to give her the orgasm she’s so frantically seeking. 

A third finger and a few firm flicks of his tongue are all it takes to make her practically bend herself in two as she cries out, trying to push her face into the closest pillow. Her fingers loosen their hold on his curls and he has to pause, cheek pressed against one of her thighs, and just breathe. But he can smell her and feel her quiver and heat curls deep in his belly, so hot he digs fingers into her skin.

When he crawls up her body, can finally look down at her face, she looks wrecked, cheeks flushed and hair tangled around her head like a flaming halo. He’s got to place both palms against her cheeks, feel the blood rush beneath his hands, feel the fire inside her, the heat that threatens to burn him every moment he spends with her, every time he falls a little deeper into her. 

It’s intense in a way he’s not used to, pushing into her. She’s immediately wrapped around him, heels pressing into his back, hands on his neck, his shoulders, roaming. But her eyes are wide, watching him even as her lips part and head tilts back, brows drawing together. It’s so beautiful he pulls all the way out so he can push in again, slower, drag across her skin. 

He wants to keep up this tortured pace for a little longer because he feels like he’s just fucking melting into her. But she’s letting out this sound like she’s choking on a sob and he holds her tighter as his hips snap. 

From there it’s downhill, her hands fly up to the wall so she can push back against him even harder while keeping herself from being smashed into the surface. He’s got her legs thrown over his shoulders so he can drive down into her deep, hit something inside that makes her catch the breaths she’s working so hard to suck in. 

The end is so close, he’s hovering on the brink, but he needs her to come again, one more time before he can stop, before his body will release all this built up tension that’s been wreaking havoc on his body. Her head comes forward and teeth sink into his collar, her scream muffled into his burning skin and he shudders as she contracts around him, nails digging into her wrists. 

It’s a fucked up high they have to come down from and he’s not sure he could even handle holding her right now, every nerve on edge, he might jump out of his skin. No man should be so wound up right after an orgasm. 

She solves the problem for him, turning onto her side and resting one hand on his chest, offering just enough physical contact to keep them connected but not overheating. 

“What did you mean?” The words kind of startle him, even though they left his mouth. Maybe the time for words hadn’t come just yet, but he’s got to get them out there because he knows it has to happen. What just occurred was tinged with something, it was about more than just sex and he couldn’t leave that hanging. “What you said outside, what did you mean?”

He’s glad he doesn’t have to explain because the look in her eyes says she understands. But she turns away from him and for a second he feels guilty. He’s beginning to think Kara is never going to talk when her voice breaks in, small. “Being happy, it’s the scariest thing that can happen to you right? Because eventually you might- you will lose it. Whatever it is, whatever makes you feel that way, it’ll be gone soon. Maybe it’ll be days or years or a lifetime, but eventually you won’t have it anymore and losing that happiness almost negates everything you felt before, right?” The way she words it, the way her voice lilts at the end of her sentences, like she’s asking him to verify that what she’s saying is true and he believes her, he doesn’t know what to say. 

Because, fuck, it’s true. And he’s never thought about it, he’d lost things in his life, but he’d never really sat down and thought about how nothing, no one, lasted forever. Who thinks like that though, what makes someone stop when they’re happy to say no, because they can’t handle losing it so they push the happiness away before it can go too far?

He reaches out a hand to touch her shoulder and urge her over. Because he needs to see her, needs to look into those liquid amber eyes and see if he’s fucked up. He can’t fix it if he has. He’s already fucked up him and Louis and Louis doesn’t even know it yet. He can’t fuck up the two things that are currently keeping him afloat. 

She turns over, looks at him with an expression he can’t read. 

“Are you happy?” His voice is broken and he can’t decide why. 

Her eyes close and she shifts forward, he immediately wraps his arms around her small body. Against his chest, her voice is muffled. “I don’t know.”

This isn’t a conversation he can deal with right now. He doesn’t even know what they are to each other and they’re going through some kind of existential crisis together? No, he’s got too much to deal with in the way of problems right now, so he’s going to sweep this one under the rug, he’s going to go to sleep and wake up in the morning with her and he knows she’ll do the same, because she’s kept up the façade this long, she’ll pick it right back up where she left off, he’s pretty sure he can count on that. They’ll ignore it all together. He can do that. 

\--

“Pretty loud storm last night huh?” Louis has a shit eating grin plastered across his face, he looks way too fucking awake for this time of the morning. Or maybe Harry’s just run down. 

He looks up from his undoctored coffee and cocks his head. “I don’t recall a storm, just more rain.”

“Oh that’s right,” Louis claps a hand hard on his shoulder and shakes it gently, “that wasn’t a storm, just a roommate having abnormally loud sex, got to stop getting those two confused. You get used to not hearing those things when your roommate goes through a long dry spell. Very long. Very very very-”

“Okay,” Harry snaps, a little harsher than necessary, especially for Louis’ teasing, “m’not a fucking monk.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“Cause you’re the king of sex.” And truthfully Harry could count the number of times Louis had had sex since his breakup with Eleanor. This he might be willing to admit, but he’d never say it was because he’d sat, each time, with his ear pressed to the wall separating their rooms, jerking off to Louis’ low moans and trying to come with him. 

“I’ll have you know-.”

The sound of Harry’s door made both of them look back and watch as Kara padded out, wearing one of Harry’s longer shirts. “Hope you don’t mind,” she said as she approached the table they sat at, “couldn’t find my clothes.”

“Put them in the dryer love.” Louis smiled up at her and gestured towards the coffee pot. “Some caffeine to get your morning started off right?”

She smiled back and faked a short curtsey. “Such a gentleman, do you treat all strange girls so well?” They’d actually met briefly a few times in the past two weeks but conversation had been short. 

While she busied herself with the coffee, Harry stared hard at Louis. She may have missed the meaning behind his words but Harry caught them, and wondered if he was meant to. Louis had put their clothes in the dryer. A very Louis thing to do, they took care of each other, he and Harry, but Louis had known Harry had a girl in his room and still come in once they were asleep to get their wet clothes. While they were in bed. Naked. A few steps away. 

And Louis was staring back at him. Watching him go through this mental process. Yeah, Harry knew now, he was definitely supposed to catch all that. Louis wanted him to know he was there. He could see them. And he wasn’t afraid for Harry to know. Shit. He swallowed hard and broke eye contact. 

“Give me two seconds to wake up and I’ll get out of your hair.” Kara was sipping her coffee while leaning against the counter, shirt rising high on her thigh each time she lifted her arm. Harry’s eyes flicked back to Louis and saw him watching her, stare trained on the soft skin she was flashing them on each swallow. Louis always knew when Harry was watching him and looked back with a smile. Harry had no clue what that smile meant, but he knew for a fact it was trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look me up on tumblr- [ odietamo53](http://odietamo53.tumblr.com)

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to look me up on tumblr- odietamo53


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